


We Could Be Heroes

by dollylux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Halloween Costumes, Trick or Treating, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy's first time trick-or-treating, and Dean helps him with his costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Be Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/gifts).



> Weechesters; gen - Sam is 8 and Dean is 12. Written for a tumblr prompt: [original post](http://dollylux.tumblr.com/post/130982456846/4-wore-the-same-exact-costume-weechesters-for).

At eight years old, Sam is a total nerd about Egypt. He reads all the books, watches movies and even boring documentaries they find at the video store about it, about ancient kings and pyramids and all that old, sandy history that bores Dean to tears.

And so naturally, when Halloween rolls around, Sam wants to be a mummy.

Dean takes him down to the dollar store one chilly afternoon and they buy up cheap white curtains and bedsheets and medical gauze, and Dean and Dad and Sam spend a whole evening staining all the fabric with black tea.

On Halloween night a couple of days later, Dad has to leave to take care of some actual scary stuff, and so Dean is tasked with helping Sam with his costume and supervising the tricking and the treating.

“And you stick close to him,” Dad warns, not really jazzed about the idea of them going out at all, but Sam had been so excited, had made some little friends in town who were all going trick-or-treating together and had invited him along. How could Dad tell him no? “You know what to watch out for.”

Dean, world-wise and life-hardened at the ripe age of twelve, nods solemnly.

He gets to work when Dad leaves, cutting up the fabric into long strips that he then has to very carefully wrap around Sam’s scrawny little bird-boned body, each strip fastened with a carefully hidden safety pin. Sam stands patiently in the middle of the hotel room, watching old _Addams Family_ reruns while Dean creates a mummy out of a little brother.

“There,” Dean says finally, wrapping the last one around Sam’s head, leaving room for him to breathe, talk, and see. He smears some black facepaint in all the exposed spots on Sam’s face, and he steps back to admire his work.

“How do I look!?” Sam chirps, his eyes wide, not waiting for an answer before he runs to the bathroom to look in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Dean follows him, actually a little nervous about what Sam’ll think.

“Wow,” Sam whispers, staring unblinking at himself in the mirror. “I look so scary, Dean.”

“Totally scary,” Dean agrees, grinning down at Sam and patting him on top of his bandaged head. There’s a knock at the door, and Sam gasps, about to bolt but Dean holds him fast. “Why don’t you put your shoes on and grab your pumpkin. I’ll get the door.”

Sam shuffles over to the bed and grabs his knock-off white Nikes, putting them on carefully with his bandage-covered white gloves. Dean smiles to himself as he opens the door to reveal a small gaggle of creatures.

“Is Sam here?!” tiny Mike Tyson asks. Dean laughs at the sight of him, eyes darting quickly over the kids, taking in each of their costumes: Mike Tyson, Bart Simpson, Michelangelo the turtle, Wednesday Addams, and--

Oh, crap.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, he’s...” His eyes stick on the mummy at the back of the group, the one who looks nearly identical to Sam but his wrappings are better, his makeup awesome, even his shoes covered in gloomy, aged bandages. Sam appears right beside him before he can even react, his pumpkin clutched in his tiny hands, practically vibrating with excitement.

Dean knows the exact second Sam sees the other mummy.

“Dean,” he whispers, reaching up to wrap a hand around the pocket of Dean’s hoodie and tugging on it. “C-Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Hold on,” Dean tells the little troupe, guiding Sam back into the motel and closing the door behind him.

Sam is all but curled in on himself, his arms wrapped around his tiny chest, his head down.

“Did... did you see Tyler?” Sam asks softly. Dean holds in a sigh as he sits down on the bed to get closer to eye level with Sam.

“Yeah,” he replies, glaring back at the door and that stupid, professionally done-up mummy child. “But, hey, it’s okay. There can be two--”

“I can’t go back out there,” Sam tells him. He looks up at Dean, his eyes filmed with tears, pleading with Dean to understand. “He looks so cool. Everybody will see him next to me and they’ll know that I made my own costume. That we’re poor and I couldn’t--”

“Hey,” Dean interrupts gently, trying to give Sam his best smile. “No, hey, listen. I’ve got an idea.”

He doesn’t have an idea. But he stands up and pretends that he does.

“We can, uh... we can,” he mumbles, glancing around the room, looking for anything that’ll spark an idea. His eyes catch on Sam’s stack of books about Egypt. “Oh! Hey! We can draw some...”

He runs over and grabs the stack, perusing them until he finds the one he wants, _The Little Book of Egyptian Hieroglyphics_ , sitting down on the floor to quickly leaf through it.

“We can draw some of these babies on you, all the ones that mean you’re, uh.” He stops on a hieroglyphic that means _royalty_. “Yeah! That means you’re a king. And they drew them on you before they buried you to send you into the afterlife.”

He grabs a Sharpie from Sam’s pencil box and motions at him.

“C’mere, let’s do this.”

Dean works as quickly as he can, drawing word after word on Sam who stays quiet, any tears that fall getting soaked up by the bandages on his face. 

“There,” he says finally, capping the Sharpie. “And...” He grabs Sam’s backpack, opening up the front pocket where he knows he keeps his most precious stuff, ignoring Sam’s protests as he pulls out the cheap, plastic collar necklace that Sam had sent off for in the back of some nerdy kids magazine, one that apparently looks just like an Egyptian king’s necklace. Sam had never been brave enough to wear it, but he liked to keep it with him, to know it’s nearby.

Dean stands up and fixes the necklace around Sam’s neck, giving him a little push toward the bathroom.

“Now go look.”

He follows him in again, hands on his hips while Sam blinks at his own reflection.

“Can I be King Tut?” he whispers in awe.

“Heck yeah!” Dean grins, relieved. “And, hey, look. I’ll even be...”

He hurries out into the room again, grabbing the top sheet off the bed. He strips down to his boxers and fixes the sheet around himself, taking a few of the safety pins and pinning it so it stays on.

“Your faithful servant...” He tries to picture some of the names he saw in the book. “Merenre.”

Sam looks happy again, maybe even more so now. He flings himself at Dean, his plastic necklace rattling, his little arms wrapping around Dean’s waist.

“Thanks, Dean.”

Dean smiles, resting his hand on Sam’s head, cupping it and giving it a little ruffle even though he can’t reach his hair.

“Sure thing, kid. C’mon, let’s go get some candy.” He hands Sam his pumpkin and opens the door again, stepping back and bowing as he motions Sam through.

“After you, your majesty.”

The other kids watch in quiet awe as Sam steps outside, followed by his servant.

Sam’s smile lights up the night.


End file.
